


my soul will have to wait

by punkjuggie



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Domestic, Emotional Manipulation, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, Kinda, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Panic Attacks, Religious Guilt, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-12-18 19:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11881683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkjuggie/pseuds/punkjuggie
Summary: When Mac loses his memory after a skiing accident, Dennis decides it's the perfect opportunity to resolve his on-going sexuality crisis and let him finally be his true self.The only way to do so is to pretend that they are already married.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The movie Overboard (1987) was on the other day and I thought it would make a great concept for a macdennis fic because it's got scheming, lying, and one-sided pretend relationship and so I had to write it. 
> 
> You'll notice that I put the mildly dubious consent tag up there, because the story will be explicit, but it could be perceived as dubious consent due to Dennis' emotional manipulation (what else). Just wanted to put that out there.

“I’m telling you,” Charlie raises his voice, trying to drown Dee’s counter-arguments, “there is a way to bind a ghost or ghost-like creature to your house, and then it becomes a sort of servant. It is an intricate process though.”

 

They are bringing attention to themselves in the small waiting area of the hospital. There are other families in there, anxiously waiting for news from their doctor, or maybe already mourning their loved ones.

 

And Charlie is arguing about slave ghouls.

 

“Charlie, we’re not even sure that ghosts exist and you’re saying that there’s a way to enslave them to do our bidding?” Dee raises her eyebrows, a challenge of some sort. “That’s simply ridiculous.”

 

“Is it, Dee? Is it ridiculous?”

 

“You wanna know what’s ridiculous?” Dennis’ voice interrupts their arguments from where he’s sitting, three seats down. At first, he didn’t want to associate with them and their stupid conversation but now he feels as though he needs to make them stop before they get kicked out.

 

Fortunately, Charlie and Dee shut up and turn their very short attention span towards Dennis. Frank, sitting beside them, has been asleep pretty much from the moment they arrived at the hospital.

Dennis takes a deep breath. “What’s ridiculous is that you’re loudly arguing about whether or not you could keep a pet ghost in your house and meanwhile, Mac is somewhere in a room out there.” Dennis flails his arms in the direction of the door where the doctor disappeared to perform surgery. “Probably dead, for all we know.”

 

Dee and Charlie are looking at him now, in that way that makes Dennis wants to scratch off his skin and climb out of his body. He closes his eyes, just to stop looking at them. “Can we just,” he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “sit in silence and pretend that we’re normal people for a while?”

 

It’s a sort of miracle that Charlie and Dee silently agree, one that doesn’t happen very often, so Dennis sits back down and enjoys the silence. Well, relative silence. There are still the other families quietly talking on the other side of the room, and Frank’s snores sound even louder now that they have gotten quiet.

 

Dennis starts to think that maybe not talking wasn’t the best idea because if there isn’t anything to distract him, then he’s left with his thoughts and for the past few hours, his thoughts have mostly been Mac’s lifeless body lying on the ground. The contrast of red blood splattered in the snow. The cold dread running through him colder than the wind of the mountain.

 

As much as he hates Mac, Dennis cannot live without him. The mere thought of losing Mac knocks all the air out of his lungs, leaving him gasping in agony.

 

Thankfully, the doctor chooses this moment to walk back in the waiting room, putting them all out of their misery. “Are you the family of Mr. Mcdonald?”

 

“Yes, that’s us,” Dennis answers for the gang. He sees Charlie lightly punching Frank awake from the corner of his eye. “How is he?”

 

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that Mr. Mcdonald is fine. He is resting at the moment, but he’ll be discharged later this afternoon.”

 

They all let out a sigh of relief, even though they will all deny it if anyone brings it up. After all, the gang has to keep the status quo that they don’t give a shit about each other.

 

“Can we go see him?” Charlie asks.

 

“Sure,” the doctor nods. “One more thing though; your friend seems to have temporary amnesia. This is very common in patients with head trauma.”

 

“Wait, what do you mean?” Dee frowns.

 

“Well, earlier when I asked him the date, he said it was 2006. Don’t worry though; his memory will come back by itself sooner or later.”

 

“Is there anything we can do to help him get his memory back faster though?” Charlie asks, eyes wide and unbelieving.

 

“You could always try and tell him about the past ten years, maybe some key moments for him. That might help trigger his memory, but really, it will come back eventually.”

 

They have questions, so many more questions but they don’t even know where to begin so instead they thank the doctor and let him leave.

 

Frank is the one who dares to break the silence first. “I can’t believe we’re stuck with Mac from the last decade. So much happened in ten years.”

 

“Yeah,” Charlie agrees. “I think he didn’t even know he was gay back in 2006.”

 

Dennis perks up at that, the gears in his mind already rolling. “Guys, I think maybe this could be a great opportunity.”

 

He’s met with equally confused expressions from Dee and Charlie, as well as Frank’s natural blank stare.

 

Dennis rolls his eyes. “Don’t you get it? This is the perfect opportunity to get the Mac we always wanted!”

 

“Wow,” Dee exhales, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Okay, we’re going there. This is some interesting developments.”

 

Dennis feels himself becoming irritated, but he wills himself to stay calm. He has to convince the gang that his idea is brilliant and will make all their lives so much easier.

 

“Dee, shut up. This is going to benefit all of us. You know how Mac has been one step in and one step of the closet for years?”

 

The gang grumbles their agreement, half-heartedly nodding along. Even Frank is actively participating this time, groaning at the mention of Mac’s inner-battle with homosexuality.

 

“Well, what if there was a way to make him come out and be true to himself once and for all?” Dennis smirks, raising a persuasive eyebrow.

 

“Dennis, why are you being all cryptic and shit? Just spit it out already!” Charlie tells him, impatience lacing his words.

 

Dennis frowns, his hands balled up at his sides. “I was doing a thing, Charlie. I was being suspenseful, but you ruined it. Congratulations, you ruined it.”

 

“Just tell us your plan, idiot. I want to get out of here as soon as possible; hospitals give me the creeps,” Dee admits, looking around the room.

 

“We all end up here Deandra,” Frank tells her. “Sooner or later, we’ll all be lying down in one of those rooms, being kept alive artificially by machines. When it’s my turn, don’t even hesitate: just pull the plug.”

 

“Don’t worry about me, Frank,” Dee scoffs. “There will be no hesitation on my part.”

 

Dennis groans, his patience wearing thin. “Guys, we’re getting sidetracked again. Can we get back to business?”

 

“Yes,” Charlie agrees. “So how do we make Mac gay?”

 

“Mac is already gay, Charlie,” Dee answers. “The real question is: How do we make Mac accept that he is gay?”

 

“Exactly, Dee. Now here’s the plan: When Mac wakes up, we’ll pretend that he and I are married.”

 

Dee, Charlie, and Frank stay silent, blinking slowly at him like he’s just lost his mind. He hears Dee mutter a “whoomp, there it is” under her breath but Dennis decides to ignore her instead of giving in to her immature shenanigans.

 

“It’s foolproof,” Dennis adds. “How is Mac going to argue that he cannot be gay if he believes that he’s been married to a man for years?”

 

“I don’t know, Dennis…” Charlie weakly argues.

 

“Why does it have to be you,” Dee chirps in.

 

“This is fucking twisted, even for us,” Frank says, but he’s laughing gleefully, and Dennis is convinced that the man is losing his mind a little more every day.

 

“Where else are we supposed to find a man that will pretend to be married to Mac? For free? I’m telling you, this is the only way to get Mac to overcome this whole gay crisis.”

 

Dennis never expected them to cheer or admit how genius his idea was, but he had hoped for a little more excitement from the others. After all, he was actively working to get rid of one of their recurring problems.

 

“I just don’t think this is gonna end up well,” Charlie mumbles, and Dennis hears Dee sigh beside him, but thankfully, she doesn’t comment.

 

“Charlie,” Dennis says, taking a step towards the door, “what could possibly go wrong?”

 

Whatever Charlie’s answer is, (if he even had one) it's drowned behind the door Dennis walked through, leaving the gang to trail off after him.  

 

* * *

 

The air is heavy when Mac wakes up, and the lights are too bright, and everything just feels _too much_. He hears the distinct voices of the gang bickering around him, but it’s like they’re far away, down a tunnel. Still, the sound is familiar and reassuring, and Mac is thankful for that because he truly feels like shit.

 

Every breath is painful, and he’s almost convinced that someone is trying to rip off his right arm from his body. He doesn’t open his eyes because it seems like too much work, but he eventually opens his mouth to tell the gang to shut the fuck up.

 

“Hey, buddy,” he hears Charlie’s voice. “Mac, are you awake?”

 

“Yes, because you assholes are yelling at each other,” he blinks his eyes open and finds the gang surrounding him, all staring down at the bed. “You realize this is a hospital, right? Why am I in here anyway?”

 

Dennis takes the seat next to him and places a hand on his uninjured arm, stroking his skin gently. He feels a shock go through his body, but in the best possible way, a contrast to the pain in his other arm secured in a sling.

 

“We went skiing, and you took a nasty fall and hurt your head real bad,” Dennis explains, and Mac’s cheeks heat up; he can't help but feel ashamed. “It looked badass though.”

 

Mac’s eyebrows shoot up, a small smile forming on his face. “It did?”

 

“Of course, it did! Right, guys?”

 

Frank, Charlie, and Dee agree unenthusiastically, putting the minimum amount of effort into making themselves believable. Mac, obviously, is clueless and looks back at Dennis with a beaming smile.

 

“Wow! I can’t believe I remember none of it.”

 

“What’s the last thing you remember, Mac?” Dee asks him.

 

Mac frowns, trying to concentrate. “I don’t know. There was the mafia, you and Charlie got hooked up on coke and _you_ ,” he looks pointedly at Dennis, “became a prostitute. Yeah, Frank was your pimp.”

 

The silence that follows is unusual from a group of people like themselves and Mac cannot ignore the bad feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Finally, Charlie is the one who speaks first, letting the words fall out like he was holding his breath.

 

“Dude, that was like, ten years ago.”

 

Mac wants to laugh, he wants to call Charlie an idiot, but the gang all stares at him like he’s the one that’s crazy. They look at him with a strange expression close to pity or concern, and Mac thinks that maybe he’s the only one not in on the joke.

 

He hates it.

 

He looks back at Dennis, who throws him what Mac thinks must be a sympathetic smile, but there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that give him away. Mac thinks that if he lost the past ten years of his life, he’s glad that at least Dennis is the same asshole that he always was. At least, this is familiar. He wonders what happened to the rest of them.

 

“Guys, could you give us a minute?” Dennis tells the others, and they leave the room without another word, giving Mac and Dennis all the privacy they need.

 

The room seems bigger now that Charlie, Frank, and Dee are gone, and Mac is suddenly acutely aware of how close Dennis is. Mac is used to having Dennis all up in his personal space; it’s the kind of thing that happens after living with the same person for ten years. _“Twenty years,”_ he reminds himself, and his heart sinks a little when he thinks that maybe he doesn’t even live with Dennis anymore. A lot could’ve changed in ten years.

 

“Is it true, Dennis? Did I forget an entire decade?”

 

“Yeah,” Dennis answers him, running his thumb over Mac’s knuckles soothingly and Mac freezes but doesn’t pull his hand away. “Not forever though, the doctor says your memory will come back by itself.”

 

Dennis is still rubbing slow circles against his hand, and Mac cannot ignore it. It’s not one of those casual touches that neither of them mentions because they don’t even realize it. No, this is deliberate, like Dennis wants him to notice and wants to talk about it.

 

Maybe Dennis did change after all.

 

“What are you doing?” Mac asks him finally, trying to push the words past the lump in his throat.

 

“Oh, this?” Dennis tells him, looking down at his hand pressed to Mac’s. “I’m just trying to comfort you, letting you know everything will be alright.”

 

“Yeah...we don’t do this though,” Mac says, suspicious. _“Not sober,”_ he thinks to himself.

 

Dennis sighs and takes his hand away from Mac, and this is what Mac wants. He wants things to be normal, like back in 2006. Still, the lack of pressure against his hand leaves him feeling empty and cold. He tries not to think about it too much.

 

“Mac, we need to talk. Things have changed between us.”

 

Mac’s shoulders droop. _“There it is,”_ he thinks. Dennis found someone better. Dennis moved out and left Mac behind. Mac always knew it was bound to happen; no one shares an apartment with their best friend for twenty years, some day you need to move on.

 

Mac doesn’t feel ready to move on just yet.

 

“Mac, we’re married now,” Dennis tells him, a smile on his face and warmth in his eyes.

 

Mac frowns. “How did this happen? Who did we marry?” He pauses and misses the incredulous look on Dennis’ face. “Is she hot?”

 

“What?” Dennis sputters. “No, you idiot. We’re _married_. Like, to each other. You and me.”

 

The colors drain from Mac’s face as the words echo in his mind. The hospital blanket draped over him feels too heavy all of a sudden, and there doesn’t seem to be enough air for him to breathe properly. There are so many questions on the tip of his tongue, and he cannot think of a right answer for any of them.

 

If he’s married to Dennis, that means he’s doomed to Hell.

 

“Dennis,” he finally chokes out after a too long moment of silence. “Bro, I’m not gay.”

 

Dennis nods slowly, his lips pulled together in a tight line. “Of course,” he says quietly, voice strained. He appears to be calm, but there’s a fire burning in his eyes.

 

“I can’t be married to you, Dennis. I’m not gay because being gay is a sin. It’s in the Bible,” Mac tries to explain but with every word he says, Dennis looks more and more irritated and disappointed.

 

Mac knows what’s in the Bible. He knows that the thoughts he’s had in the past are corrupted. He remembers that night he got Dennis drunk on tequila, how his black tank top had clung to his small body frame. He remembers his friend being drenched in sweat and alcohol, and how lovely he looked with his lips wrapped around the rim of the glass. He remembers how he leaned in the more Dennis drank, how little distance was left between them in the end. Mac remembers that he had to resist temptation. The devil always wears the sweetest disguise.

 

Mac is used to resisting temptation. He’s been doing it his entire life. He knows that being a good Catholic means leading a miserable life.

 

“It’s just not right,” Mac says out loud.

 

“I forgot how fucking insufferable you used to be,” Dennis tells him. He’s mad, but there’s still the barest hint of softness at the edge of his words. “Haven’t heard one of your Bible rants in a long time.”

 

“Does this mean I don’t go to church anymore?” Mac simply can’t imagine choosing the homosexual lifestyle over God.

 

“No, because you’d rather be true to yourself than follow a bunch of rules written in a book thousands of years ago. Doesn’t that seem right? Doesn’t it seem better, Mac?”

 

Mac shakes his head as he grips the bed sheets tight in his fist. He wants to tell Dennis that it doesn’t seem right or better, but he can’t deny that he’s thought about how life would be if he just let go. Sometimes, Mac wonders how life would be if he weren't constantly riddled with guilt every time he let his eyes wander at the gym. He wonders how his life would be if he didn’t have to go to confession every week and tell the priest how he touched himself listening to his roommate fucking another nameless chick through his wall. Most of the time though, he wonders how life would be if he could just suck it up and kiss Dennis again like back when they were confused teenagers and their days were spent getting high and jacking each other off.

 

From what Dennis is telling him, it seems like he could have it all, but Mac knows better. McDonalds don’t have it easy and they don’t live the life they wish for, but it’s alright because, in the end, they’re rewarded with Heaven.

 

Something he cannot have if he has Dennis.

 

“Dennis, I’m tired,” Mac tells him. He’s got too much on his mind. He’s got Dennis under his skin.

 

Dennis sighs. “Yeah, I’ll give you some space. Just sleep it off, and we’ll talk when you wake up.”

 

Dennis leans in like he’s going to press his lips against Mac’s forehead, but he stops short when Mac flinches away. He sighs again and collects his coat from the chair, the silence heavy in the room. He’s got a hand on the door, ready to leave when Mac speaks up again.

 

“Dennis, there’s nothing to say. I’m just not gay.”

 

Mac doesn’t expect an answer, and that’s what he gets. He watches Dennis retreating figure and prays the Lord that when he wakes up, everything is back to normal.

 

* * *

 

Mac figures God might not be listening. When he’s released a couple of hours later, he’s just as lost and confused and the gang is acting just as weird.

 

They go back to the bar because Mac doesn’t want to spend another minute alone in bed; he’s had enough of that. He wants a beer or three, he wants the familiarity of Paddy’s, but mostly, he just wants things to be as they’ve always been.

 

Obviously, his bouncer duties are hindered by the fact that he’s got a broken arm so all Mac can do is sit around, drink and watch the others work. By others, he means Dennis because the rest of the gang somehow found a way to escape. Charlie said something about rats and used the back door to get to the alley. Dee decided she’d check the inventory and went down to the basement and Frank almost immediately locked himself in the back office, although Mac couldn’t care less what sleazy business he’s up to this time.

 

Still, that only leaves Dennis behind the bar, so Mac just drinks and watches. Like most nights, it’s a slow night. Mac is a little disappointed that over the span of ten years, they didn’t become a more successful business, but they still have the bar so he thinks they must be doing something right.

 

Mac watches Dennis wiping down glasses after glasses, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he pushes the rag down the pint with his long fingers. Mac notices the worry lines on his forehead that weren’t there before and the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes, and it hits Mac that in the past ten years, they have gotten old. He’d never tell Dennis of course, but the signs are there, and Mac can’t help the sudden wave of sadness when he thinks that he wasn’t there to grow old with Dennis.

 

He starts thinking about all the schemes he missed, all the adventures and the inside jokes he’s not in. “ _Don’t forget getting married,_ ” a little voice inside his head reminds him and Mac’s breath hitches. Apparently, he also somehow became gay, fell in love and married his best friend along the way. Mac doesn’t know who he is anymore, doesn’t recognizes himself, or the people around him and he’s afraid he never will.

 

His heart starts beating faster like it’s going to leap out of his chest and it gets harder to breathe. Mac sees Dennis looking up at him, immediately setting the glasses aside and hooking up the rag over his shoulder. “Mac, what’s wrong?”

 

Dennis moves closer, his hand reaching out to touch Mac’s arm but Mac recoils and lets Dennis’ hand hang between them. “Don’t touch me. I’m fine,” but he’s not fine. Every time he tries to breathe in, he feels a sharp pain in his chest, and he doubles over from the ache.

 

“What do you need? Do you need more painkillers?” Dennis asks but he makes no move to try to touch Mac again, and Mac is thankful for it.

 

“I just need air,” he says and stumbles off the stool to go to the back alley. He ignores the way Dennis’ stare burns the back of his neck.

 

As soon as he steps outside, he backs himself into a wall near the dumpster and takes in shallow breaths, testing out the pain. He drops down on the ground and tries to focus his attention on his breathing, and the smell of trash, and the sound of cars driving down the street. For a moment, he can forget about Dennis and the gang and the bar and everything he doesn’t remember.

 

He stays like that long enough that his ass starts to feel numb, but he’s so focused on not thinking that he doesn’t mind it, nor does he hear Charlie approaching.

 

“What’s going on with you?” Charlie asks him, startling Mac.

 

“Jesus, Charlie, how are you still out here?”

 

Mac looks at his friend, covered in blood and dirt and holding onto a wooden stick equipped with nails, looking perfectly content. Mac wishes he could be Charlie sometimes.

 

“I was bashing the rats before they could get to the basement,” he explains, swinging his stick like a bat.

 

“That’s a sweet rat stick dude, where did you get it?”

 

“What do you mean ‘where did I get it', _you_ gave it to me, remember?”

 

It doesn’t take long for Charlie to notice his mistake. Mac sees his face fall right after the words come out of his mouth, but he refuses to look up again. He doesn’t want to see the pity on Charlie’s face.

 

“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t think about that.”

 

“It’s fine, Charlie.” Mac is tired of telling people he’s fine.

 

Charlie props his stick against the dumpster and slides down the wall to sit down next to Mac. Mac doesn’t look at him, and Charlie doesn’t say anything, so they just sit in silence, comforted by each other’s presence. It reminds Mac of when they were kids, before they met Dennis and Dee, when it was just the two of them. _Simpler times_ , he thinks.

 

“What’s going on with you?” Charlie asks again, and Mac sighs.

 

When they were kids, Charlie always had those weird questions about life, and he wouldn’t let go until Mac could answer him. When Mac had asked him why he didn’t ask his mom, Charlie had said that it was because he was smart. Sometimes, Mac thinks Charlie grew up to be the smartest in the gang, in the most unconventional kind of ways.

 

“I can’t really be married to Dennis, am I? Tell me this is just some sick twisted joke.”

 

Charlie winces slightly, and that’s all the confirmation Mac needs.

 

“Wow, so it’s true. How does something like that happen? I always thought Dennis hated me.”

 

“C’mon man, you know he doesn’t. You two always had that weird bond. You can’t live without him, and he can’t live without you.”

 

Mac blushes. “I think you’re being a little overdramatic here, buddy.”

 

Charlie shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear. “No, it’s true! Dee had made fun of you, about how you were so codependent and pathetic and so you took a break in your friendship. You both were incredibly needy and drove us all insane. You didn’t last 24 hours before you were back in each other’s arms. It was so sad but also kind of heartwarming. Honestly, I just wanted you out of my place.”

 

Mac is smiling too, even though he can’t remember this happening, but the thought of it brings unexpected butterflies to his stomach. He knew he couldn’t imagine a life without Dennis at his side, just a couple of feet across the bar or sleeping a room away at night. It’s kind of a relief that Dennis feels the same way.

 

“What else?” Mac asks because maybe if Charlie tells him all about their schemes and him and Dennis, perhaps it’ll trigger back his memory.

 

“Oh, so much happened, Mac. There was that time where you and Dennis pretended to be gay realtors and Dennis dressed you up in a pink polo shirt. He called you his trophy husband in front of that couple we were trying to scam. Dennis couldn’t take his eyes off you; it was fucking ridiculous. Then Frank ruined everything.”

 

Mac doesn’t recall that one, but he imagines Dennis picking out flamboyant pieces of clothes for him to wear, how he must have put up a fight. He’s not surprised that Dennis ended up convincing him to do it. Mac is not proud of it, but he knows he’d jump off a bridge if Dennis asked him to. He also knows Dennis would be right behind him, jumping off a second later.

 

“You also have these monthly dinners where Dennis takes you out to a fancy restaurant—”

 

“Like dates?” Mac interrupts, genuinely surprised.

 

“Yeah, I guess? I don’t really ask questions,” Charlie tells him and Mac is satisfied with his answer. “Anyways, one night, Frank and I wounded up at the same place as you; we were celebrating our anniversary.”

 

This raises a lot of questions in Mac, but he doesn’t want to interrupt Charlie again, so he keeps his mouth shut and hopes he’ll remember to ask about it later.

 

“Frank and Dennis started this whole thing where they were waiting for the other one to pay tribute and it escalated pretty quickly. Dennis ended up serenading you in front of everyone in the restaurant, looking right at you the whole time. It was a little uncomfortable to watch,” he adds as an afterthought.

 

“Uh,” Mac sighs, not really sure how to react. It’s weird concept to comprehend, Dennis and him being happy. It’s so far-fetched, it sounds almost made up.

 

Charlie has never been a good liar though.

 

“Listen, I know Dennis is an asshole, and I’m not sure he’s capable of love,” Charlie says and Mac is inclined to agree with him, “but the guy would be a mess without you. That’s gotta count for something. So don’t question it too much, yeah? You’ll remember everything soon enough.”  

 

Mac nods, but there is still uncertainty settling in the pit of his stomach. There are still a thousand questions, so many _‘why’_ s and _‘how’_ s, but Mac listens to Charlie and pushes them in the back of his mind, for a little while at least.

 

* * *

 

They get back home that night, and Mac realizes home isn’t where he last remembered. It’s late, and Mac is exhausted and in pain and he’s not even home.

 

“Yeah, we burned down our apartment,” Dennis tells him, almost nonchalantly as he closes the door to Dee’s place behind them, and Mac is so mad he could cry. “Twice.”  

 

All these years he can’t remember, the memories, the pictures, they’re all gone up in flames. Mac is suddenly aware that the bar and his friends are the only things to remind him of his previous life. They’re all he’s got, and at that moment, he finds it pretty pathetic.

 

Dennis must have noticed the shift in his friend’s face, the sadness clouding Mac’s eyes as he takes in the cramped space they were forced to share with Dee. Dennis comes up behind Mac, and lays a hand on his shoulder, squeezes once. He guesses Dennis probably means it as a comforting gesture, but Mac refuses to lean into it. Instead, he tenses up, and Dennis gets the hint.

 

With a sigh, he pulls his hand away and walks to a little corner of the living room where two sets of sleeping bags are settled side by side on the ground. Without a word, Mac follows him and lie down next to him. They’re awfully close, and Mac tries to put as much distance between them as he can, far enough away that Dennis won’t hear his hammering heartbeat. There is not a lot of space though; Mac can still feel the heat radiating from Dennis. It’s distracting, so much that Mac wonders if he’ll be able to sleep.

 

He does fall asleep, almost instantly. When he dreams, Dennis and he are sharing a beautiful house in the suburbs, with a big pool and a bigger backyard. In that dream, Mac is cooking a homemade pasta dish, and Dennis is feeding the dog. That night they go to bed in a California King. Dennis touches him softly, kisses him tenderly, running his fingers through his hair. Mac wants more, so he goes for it, pulling Dennis’ underwear off and then his own, moaning at the skin to skin contact. He thrusts up against Dennis, and he doesn’t feel shame or guilt. He just feels so good, and he tells Dennis so. Dennis tells him he’s always so good for him. He calls him _baby boy_ , and he holds his face, and he drives Mac crazy, so Mac latches his mouth on his to shut him up.

 

He’s about to come when he wakes up, drenched in sweat on Dee’s living room floor. He looks beside him to find Dennis peacefully sleeping, his arm stretched out in the space Mac has put between them. He’s just shy of touching him like he’s unsure if he’s even allowed. Mac wants to go back to sleep, but he can’t shake the contentment and happiness he felt in the dream, seemingly so close and yet so out of reach.

 

He looks at Dennis once more, lets his eyes linger on his face, his long eyelashes and the curve of his mouth. He lets himself look, the way he never does in broad daylight, around the others.

 

When he lies back down, he shifts closer, just a little bit, so that Dennis’ fingertips are barely brushing his back. In the morning, he’ll find a way to deny that the feather-light touch was enough to calm him down and let him sleep again.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! read the comments, glad you're liking it. I feel like I should mention though that I'm back in school now so that's the reason for the long wait between chapters, sorry about that. 
> 
> Warning for this chapter includes religious guilt (and lots of it) as well as alcohol abuse. 
> 
> Also, I didn't say it last time, but the title comes from the song Santeria by Sublime.

The next morning, Mac wakes up in a quiet apartment, the first rays of sunshine appearing timidly behind the blinds in the living room. The room is embraced in a golden light, warmed by the morning sun. 

 

It’s a beautiful morning, but Mac doesn’t care; he still doesn’t remember. 

 

It was a long shot, but he had hoped that a good night of sleep would be enough to restore his memory, to bring it all back to normal. The disappointment is crushing, weighing onto him so much that he doesn’t even feel like getting up. 

 

Mac has never been lucky in his life; he thinks that the odds of getting his memory back are probably not in his favor, no matter what the gang and the doctors say. He should know better than to get his hopes up. 

 

Dennis is thankfully still asleep next to him, and Mac is relieved that he doesn’t have to deal with him yet. He chances a look at the sleeping man, the light softening his features, and his hair an usual mess on the pillow. Mac bites back a smile. There’s a sudden wave a fondness washing over him as he stares at Dennis, vulnerable and unknowing. 

 

Mac hates himself for letting his guard down, allowing such feelings to consume him and the bile rises in his throat as he tears his eyes off Dennis. He never wanted this, these feelings, this guilt and this hole in his mind where the past ten years should be. 

 

He comes up with a rational explanation, a plausible deniability: it’s his subconscious, the other Mac, the one married to Dennis, trying to come through and sending him these mixed signals. It’s a battle against his own mind but Mac is in control now, and he’s not going to lose. 

 

He’s not in love with his best friend, but maybe his subconscious is. Mac shouldn’t be blamed for it though. He doesn’t deserve to go to hell for it. If he doesn’t act on it, he’s safe. Or at least he thinks that’s how it goes. 

 

His brain is foggy so instead of arguing with himself, half-naked next to his also very half-naked best friend, Mac decides to get up and get the coffee going, the way he always used to do it back at the old place. Dennis always appreciated it, Mac remembers, his heart fluttering. 

 

He groans, berating himself for not being able to control his thoughts or the way his body reacts to those thoughts. He used to be good at keeping all these things, these impulses, these feelings at bay. He wonders what happened to him. 

 

As he waits for the coffee to brew, Mac remembers that Dennis told him he didn’t go to church as much as he used to. If Mac being gay is unlikely, abandoning his church and renouncing his beliefs is simply impossible, and Mac thinks he ought to right that wrong. 

 

Maybe this is just God’s punishment after all. He was disappointed in Mac for neglecting his catholic duties and for getting married to a man so as a punishment, he took away his memory. 

 

Maybe if he confesses, if he tells the Big Man that he didn’t mean to put Him aside and that he doesn’t think that he wants to be married to another man, God will be benevolent and fix his head. Mac thinks it’s at least worth a try. 

 

He leaves the coffee in the pot and walks out of the silent apartment. He hopes the coffee will still be hot when Dennis wakes up. 

 

* * *

 

There is something nostalgic about climbing up the stairs of the church. Mac sees the eight-year-old version of himself, all dressed up for the Sunday morning service. His dress shirt is a bit too tight, and there are holes in the sole of his shoes, but his dad has just been put in jail, and he almost doesn’t see his mom anymore because she has to work two jobs.

 

Mrs. Kelly is kind enough to take him in after school, and she even lets him stay for dinner almost every night. She doesn’t mind that he passes out in her basement with Charlie and Mac’s mom never ask questions about his whereabouts. Sometimes, Mac wonders if she even notices that he’s gone. 

 

Sunday mornings soon become the only time Mac really gets to see his mom, and he doesn’t even get her to himself. He has to share her with the Lord. When he kneels down, Mac prays for his dad to come home and for things to be back the way they were. When God doesn’t answer him, Mac just prays more. His mom doesn’t talk a lot, not anymore, but she tells him that he needs to be a good boy and he needs to follow the rules if he wants to go to Heaven. His mom doesn’t talk a lot, so when she does, he listens. 

 

Mac is pushing forty now, and yet, standing in front of the tall wooden doors, he still feels like that eight-year-old kid. 

 

Inside, the church is quiet. It’s dark and gloomy, the way Mac remembers it. The shadows of the lit candles dances tall on the walls and the murmurs of the few devotees kneeled here and there echoes around them. 

 

Mac finds an empty pew in the far corner in the back, away from prying eyes. He tries to ignore the way his mind is screaming at him that he doesn’t belong here. For most of his life, Mac had always felt that the church was the only place where he truly belonged — before the bar came along. 

 

Now he’s...unsure. Apparently, something happened that made him throw away his faith and all its rules he’s lived by his whole life. Obviously he doesn’t remember, but an invisible, tiny part of him is responsible, so of course, the biggest part of him feel guilty about it. 

 

It doesn’t matter now; he’s here to make everything right. He’s here to bring things back to normal. 

 

Mac kneels down and brings his hands together to say a few prayers, the ones he knows by heart. It’s almost second nature at this point. Mac always said that reciting the prayers was comforting, the way that a security blanket was. He remembers the way Dennis had snickered at him that morning when Mac had tried to explain it to him. “More like a security blindfold,” Dennis had said. Mac has tried to forget it, but the words are always taunting him at the back of his mind. 

 

He stands up and heads towards the confessional where the old priest should be. The last time he was here - the last time he remembers - Father Heffernan was the one leading the parish. He was often drunk on communion wine, but he preached by the Bible, and he always knew how to make Mac repent for his sins.

 

He sits in the booth, listening to the soothing rhythm of the inhales and exhales of the man on the other side. Mac tries to slow down his own breath, syncing it up with the priest’s, but it only makes his beating heart sounds louder in his ears. 

 

Mac closes his eyes, silently makes the sign of the Cross and licks his lips before opening his mouth. “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned, it’s been—” 

 

Mac doesn’t know how long it’s been. It could’ve been weeks, months, even years. The last time he actually remembers was ten years ago, but Mac cannot let the priest know he hasn’t been to church in that long.

 

“—it’s been a couple of months,” he finally says, just to be safe. 

 

“Go ahead, my son,”  is all the priest says. 

 

“Wait. You’re not Father Heffernan.” 

 

“No, I’m Father McCarthy. Father Heffernan passed away years ago. Kidney failure.” 

 

“Oh,” he says, voice trembling, feeling as though the air was kicked out of his lungs. 

 

“Did you have anything on your mind, my son?” 

 

The priest’s voice is gentle and patient but it does nothing to stop the rising panic in Mac’s chest. 

 

“Um, yes.” It’s too hot it there, too small. There’s not enough air to fill his lungs. “I’m here to confess, Father.”

 

Mac is only delaying the inevitable, he knows it, but he cannot find the right words to explain the situation. Mac isn’t sure if he himself understands the mess he’s in. 

 

“I’m married to a man. That’s my sin.” 

 

The words are out now, bouncing off the walls and floating to the other side, waiting for the priest to judge him and give him his penance. 

 

“My son, I’m not sure I understand. If you believe homosexuality to be a sin, why would you willingly be married to another man? I assume you were willing, am I correct?” 

 

“Well, here’s the tricky part, Father. I was, and I wasn’t.” 

 

Silence fills the tiny space, while Mac tries his best to gather his thoughts into intelligible sentences. 

 

“Here’s what happened. Yesterday, I woke up in a hospital in pretty bad shape — skiing accident. The doc comes in and tells me I have amnesia, like my mind is stuck in 2006. But we’re in 2016!” 

 

Mac thinks he can make up the shape of the priest nodding along to his words, but the man still doesn’t say anything.

 

“And then Dennis comes in, and he tells me we’re married, which is absolutely ridiculous because back in 2006, Dennis was just my best friend and my roommate and my business partner,” Mac says, all in one breath. “And I’m not gay!” 

 

The priest hums, contemplative, while Mac waits with baited breath for his verdict. “Let me ask you something. If you don’t remember the past ten years, how can you be sure that you’re not gay?”

 

Mac frowns. “That’s a silly question. I know I’m not gay because I remember it. I bang chicks all the time!” Mac hears the priest clear his throat and he realizes he might have gotten off tracks a little. “Believe me. I’m not a homo.”

 

“Maybe you felt that way back then, but things can change. Isn’t it possible that you realized you liked men somewhere along the way, and now you just can’t remember it? Isn’t it possible that you’re just stuck in the mindset that you had at the time?” 

 

The priest is asking very good questions. Mac knows it because his blood is boiling underneath his skin, frustration growing in his veins. He feels trapped inside the wooden walls of the confessional. Father Heffernan never asked questions or forced him to take a look at himself. He just sat there, judging him quietly and told him the prayers to say to be free of sin. Mac wonders whatever happened to those values of the Catholic Church. 

 

“What are you trying to say?” he sighs.

 

“My son, even if you don’t remember it, you still chose to marry a man. There must be a reason why.” 

 

Mac clenches his jaw. “I’m telling you, there is no way I would actually do that. Homosexuality is a sin and a big one. I’ve known this forever.”

 

There’s another moment of silence. Mac hates how chatty this new priest is, but he also hates the long stretches of nothing between them. He can’t keep up with the cadence. 

 

“Are you happy?” Father McCarthy asks him, finally. 

 

Mac is caught off guard. “Am I happy? What does that have to do with anything?” 

 

“Just answer the question.” 

 

Mac starts bouncing his leg, a restless energy emanating from him as he thinks about his answer. 

 

His mind goes right to the night before, the dream he had about Dennis and how he woke up with an aching heart when he realized that none of it was real. He thinks about this morning and how he let himself imagine for a few seconds that he could get used to this, waking up with Dennis next to him. 

 

He thinks about the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach when Charlie had said that Dennis would be a mess without him, that he couldn’t live without him. He remembers the wistfulness he felt while listening to Charlie ramble on about past schemes and dinner dates, trying and failing to picture himself in these pleasant memories. 

 

He thinks back to that fateful day of freshman year when that rich kid approached him behind the bleachers, “looking for the good stuff,” he’d said. That was the moment Mac figured out that Dennis Reynolds, the guy that seemed so cool and hung out with the popular kids, was really just a dork. 

 

“It’s just a one-time thing,” he’d told him, handing him the cash in exchange for the small baggy. Mac hadn’t replied, but he’d felt a tingle sensation on his skin where his fingers had brushed against Dennis’. 

 

Dennis had come back, of course, and the one-time thing turned into once a week until once a week turned into every day. Dennis stayed with Mac most of the time, smoking under the bleachers, or behind the dumpster. Mac hadn’t realized that he started looking forward to hanging out with Dennis until it was too late and they became inseparable, toxically drawn to each other. 

 

Mac thinks maybe he started being happy the moment he met Dennis. Mac thinks perhaps his soul was damned the moment he met Dennis. 

 

“He’s my best friend,” Mac says out loud, but it comes out so quiet it almost sounds like he murmured it to himself. “Of course I’m happy. Happiness doesn’t have anything to do with marriage though.”

 

“It doesn’t? Why do you think that?” 

 

Mac remembers being six-year-old and his parents not talking to each other. He remembers how his dad didn’t come home most nights and how his mom only ever smiled while facing the television. He remembers how his mom would smoke cigarette after cigarette when his dad did come home, just to fill her mouth so she wouldn’t have to talk to him. 

 

Mac remembers how quiet his house was, but he can also recall the ever-present shouting in the Reynolds household when he was fifteen, and Dennis’ dad was home. 

 

“Don’t mind them,” Dennis had told him, totally unphased. “You’ll be used to it by the end of the weekend. He’ll be gone again soon enough anyway.”

 

He had been right. Frank never stayed more than a couple days at a time, couldn’t stand breathing the same air as Barbara. 

 

Mac learned from the beginning that being married meant being miserable. He was okay with it. 

 

“It’s just how it is,” Mac answers, biting his lip, “but it’s fine as long as you love God.”

 

“My son, if you love God then He would want you to be happy. If you get married before God, all He wants to see is the union of two people in love. He wouldn’t want you to be miserable.” 

 

Mac blinks rapidly, trying to ignore the sting he feels behind his eyes and the confusion running through his mind. 

 

He’s so tired of feeling confused all the time.

 

“I don’t understand…aren’t you supposed to tell me that what I did was wrong and that marriage is a sacred thing between a man and a woman?”

 

“Times are changing -- they’ve been changing for a while. Love is love, and I truly believe that the Lord would want what’s best for all of His children.”

 

Mac digs his nails into his palms as he clenches his fist at his sides, the anger bubbling deep inside him. He’s growing impatient, and he’s sick of sitting in the dark with this stranger telling him things he doesn’t want to hear. 

 

Mac had thought that coming to church would be comforting and familiar when nothing else in his life was. He realizes that even this can’t fill up the empty gaps.

 

“I didn’t ask for your opinion. I came here for forgiveness so just tell me what’s the penance for my sins so I can go.” 

 

The priest sighs. “Say 3 Hail Marys and 3 Our Fathers.” 

 

Mac nods silently and gets up, finally ready to leave when the priest’s voice interrupts him. 

 

“My son, please keep in mind that even if you can’t remember right now, at some point, you were in love and very happy, so much that you decided to commit to another person for life.” Mac’s heart is racing as he swallows around the lump in his throat. "And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

 

Mac leaves without saying a thing except the prayers already forming on his lips. 

 

* * *

 

When Mac gets back to Dee’s apartment, it’s empty. There are dirty dishes piling up in the sink, and clothes scattered around the living room, but Dee and Dennis are nowhere to be found. 

 

Mac doesn’t care. 

Mac took the long way home when he left the church that morning, the priest’s words running in circle in his mind as he let the cold air of February fill his lungs. Somewhere along the way, he made the decision to find hard facts and evidence about his and Dennis’ wedding. He thinks maybe if he’s confronted by the memories, it’ll come back to him. 

 

He figures he has nothing to lose. So far, none of his attempts at getting his memory back have been successful. Still, when he thinks about what he might find out, there’s a feeling building inside of him, could be apprehension or dread; a small voice in the back of his mind tells him it could be hope. Mac immediately suppresses it. 

 

_ “Are you happy?” _ the priest asked him that morning. Mac is determined to find out. 

 

As he stands in the middle of the living room, looking at the little corner he and Dennis now call home, Mac realizes that it might be a more difficult task than he had expected. 

 

There are a couple of boxes lined up behind the couch; things that have been salvaged from the fire, he supposes. There’s not much left, but it could be enough to bring him answers. 

 

He crouches in front of the first one, takes off the lid. It’s full of clothes, from underwears to graphic tees and button-ups. It’s his and Dennis’, all mixed up together in a mess and Mac wonders how long they’ve been living like this, in such close quarters. Mac notices grey cotton peeking out from underneath the pile of clothes in the box, and his heart is racing as he reaches for it. 

 

He takes out his RIOT shirt, the one he’s had for years and Mac cannot believe that it’s not torn to pieces or stained beyond repair. He smiles as he gets up to go in front of the mirror and holds the shirt in front of himself. For the first time since the accident, Mac doesn’t feel like a stranger. He doesn’t feel lost and confused. As he looks at his reflexion, he recognizes the man he was ten years ago. Sure, there are lines around his eyes now, and he thinks his beard might be greying just a little, but it’s him. It’s the same old Mac who wears stupid muscle shirts and Dennis’ hand-me-downs. 

 

When he brings the shirt closer to his face, Mac identifies the smell of his own cologne but also Dennis’ body gel. That is something new, but Mac realizes it doesn’t bother him as much as it should. He’s always liked how Dennis smell, he can appreciate the care his friend puts into his hygiene. There’s nothing wrong with that. 

 

He puts the shirt aside and walks back to the boxes, concentrating on the task at hand. He thinks there must at least be pictures or a video or  _ something _ . They’ve still got that old camera with the duct tape on the side; Mac saw it in the bar the night before. That means there must be tapes of the ceremony or the reception. 

 

He opens box after box, but they’re all filled with junk and Mac doesn’t know why they’d keep all this useless shit but not a thing, not a trace of their wedding. He lifts the lid of the last box, and he stills immediately when he sees the destroyed tapes, bits of plastic and film, all tangled up together. Mac scoops them up, catching a glimpse of a star next to a name. 

 

The sex tapes, one of Dennis’ most prized possession, reduced to nothing. Mac wonders briefly if Dennis did it for him; if this could be considered a sign of life-long commitment from him but his attention is soon captured by one lone intact tape at the bottom of the box. He takes it out with shaking hands and makes his way to the television, anxiously waiting to see what’s on it. 

 

It’s not a wedding ceremony or a wedding reception. It has nothing to do with weddings, but Mac cannot stop watching it. 

 

He watches himself on the screen, shirtless, in what seems to be Dennis’ old room back at their apartment. There’s also another man, equally shirtless, talking to him about the stock market for some reason. 

 

Mac is confused as to why Dennis would destroy his sex tapes but keep a useless video of him and this stranger wrestling. Most importantly, he wonders why they wouldn’t keep memories of what is supposed to be the happiest day of their lives. 

 

There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach. They’re not happy. Maybe they did have photos and videos, but Dennis destroyed them all like his sex tapes. Maybe they never did because they weren’t made to last. 

 

Mac thinks that if he bent himself over and guaranteed himself a one-way ticket to Hell, at least he would’ve liked it not to be all for nothing. 

 

He sits down on the floor, his back against the couch and his hands in his lap. Looking down at his fingers, he notes that he isn’t even wearing a ring. He chuckles out loud in the quiet of the apartment, a sad and bitter sound to his own ears. 

 

“I’m fucked,” he says to no one in particular. 

 

He gets up then, too fast, and his vision blacks out for a moment. This is what he wants to do, he decides, what he  _ needs  _ to do. Blacking out, just for a while. Mac was so fixated on trying to remember, he forgot how good it sometimes felt to forget. 

 

He figures the fastest way to get there is through hard liquor and it turns out Dee has lots of it. He grabs the first bottle of tequila he finds and doesn’t bother with a glass. 

 

For a little while, he feels good. The more he drinks, the more he forgets that he has no idea who he is and that he has no idea who his friends are anymore. Everything is unfamiliar but when he’s drunk, he can pretend he’s ten years younger, and he’s still going to Heaven. 

 

* * *

 

Not long after he opens his second bottle of tequila, Mac starts feeling sick, but he doesn’t know if it’s the booze or his painkillers or the reckless combination of the two. Mac feels so awful, for a moment he fears he’s going to die. Panic sweeps through him at the thought of going straight to Hell so soon, so through his drunken haze, Mac does the first thing that comes to his mind. 

 

He texts Dennis 911, hoping he still remembers what it means and then he promptly passes out. 

 

* * *

 

“Stupid goddamn  _ idiot _ ,” Mac hears when he finally comes back to himself again.  

 

He’s lying on the couch, and someone is pressing a cold water towel against his burning forehead, and it feels nice. 

 

It feels nice until he opens his eyes to see Dennis leaning over him, running his fingers through his hair and Mac tenses up.

 

“Um, Dennis,” he manages to choke out. His throat is dry, and each word out is like sandpaper rubbing against the inside of his mouth. “What happened?” 

 

“What happened?” Dennis repeats, his eyes wide. He doesn’t look happy. His face is pale, and his hair is a mess and Mac might still be feeling a bit delirious, but he thinks he looks beautiful. “You texted me 911 in the middle of the afternoon, and I come home to find you passed out on the floor surrounded by bottles of tequila.” 

 

Dennis hands him a bottle of water and Mac accepts it without saying a word. He drinks in silence, while Dennis keeps pressing the towel against his skin, watching him with tired, defeated eyes.

 

“I thought you died, you stupid idiot,” he admits quietly. “For the second time in a week,” he adds with a sigh and Mac focuses his attention on the bottle of water to avoid Dennis’ gaze. 

 

There are so many things Mac wants to say, and they’re all on the tip of his tongue, but he cannot seem to make out any words. He wants to tell Dennis he’s sorry for scaring him. He wants to tell him he’s scared; scared that his head will be scrambled forever, scared that he doesn’t know a thing about his life anymore, scared that he’ll end up in Hell after all the good work he’s put in for the Lord. He also wants to tell him that his hand feels good against his skin and that he likes the sensation of his fingers running through his hair. 

 

Mac wants to tell Dennis how much he wants to kiss him when he’s standing so close as he is now. 

 

Mac doesn’t say anything. 

 

“What happened to you anyway?” Dennis asks him, pulling away a little and Mac is grateful for the small distraction. 

 

Mac shrugs. “Alcohol and meds probably didn’t mix well.” 

 

Dennis huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, no shit. But why did you go and get shitfaced in the first place?” 

 

Mac bites his lip. He thinks about his morning at church and the cruel revelation he’s had back at the apartment after looking into boxes full of nothing. He thinks of the crushing disappointment he felt when he realized that his life with Dennis was probably just as empty and meaningless as the boxes behind the couch. He thinks about the crippling guilt that washed over him when realized that maybe a life with Dennis might have been a life he would’ve enjoyed. 

 

Maybe it’s the life he wished he had all along.

 

But it doesn’t matter now. Nothing does. 

 

“It’s not important,” Mac says. He keeps his eyes on his own hand, the absence of a ring on his finger mocking him.

 

“Just tell me,” Dennis asks, or maybe he demands. Mac isn’t sure. He’s paying more attention to Dennis’ finger drawing circles in the inside of his wrist than to his voice. 

 

“Why am I not wearing a ring?” Mac asks instead of answering Dennis’ question. He looks up then, challenges Dennis. He needs answers. 

 

Dennis looks taken aback, a frown on his face. He opens and closes his mouth a few time, and if these were under other circumstances, Mac might have laughed at how ridiculous he looks. 

 

“You must have lost it in the skiing accident,” he spits out finally, almost out of breath. 

 

Mac hums, anger buzzing under his skin. “Then why are you not wearing one either? And why is there no wedding pictures or videos and why does Charlie look so uncomfortable whenever I mention you and I? Uh?” 

 

Dennis takes a step back, puts some distance between him and Mac. He looks like he’s trying to process all the information Mac just dumped on him. Mac doesn’t give him a chance to respond though because he already knows the answer. 

 

Mac drops his shoulder. “Is it because we’re unhappy, Dennis?” he asks, his voice trembling and almost pleading; pleading Dennis to deny it, pleading Dennis to prove him wrong. “Because the priest said that happiness is the most important part of marriage, but if I’m married to you  _ and  _ we’re fucking miserable, then we’re going to Hell for sure. And none of it would’ve been even worth it.” Mac is rambling, and his words are slurred. 

 

“Mac,” Dennis sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “You’re overreacting. You’re getting all worked up over nothing. Also, Hell isn’t real so you shouldn’t worry about that,” he chuckles. 

 

Mac ignores the last part; he doesn’t have the energy to deal with Dennis’ blasphemy tonight. He just wants to know where he stands, with Dennis, with God, with himself. 

 

Mac pushes himself up on his elbows, looking Dennis in the eyes. 

 

“Dennis, are we happy?” 

 

Mac holds his breath, waiting for the answer. A  _ no  _ would confirm all of Mac’s suspicions, would be the most rational answer. McDonalds aren’t the kind of people who get what they wish for, no matter how hard they pray. No, they’re the kind of people who get the scraps and wait until they make it to the end. A  _ no  _ would break Mac’s heart. 

 

A  _ yes  _ would be everything Mac has always hoped for but never believed he would get. A  _ yes  _ would be Heaven on Earth. Mac knows a  _ yes  _ would be wishful thinking. 

 

Dennis doesn’t say anything though, he just keeps watching him silently, and Mac is about to run out of air. Mac’s eyes dart down to Dennis’ lips then, and he’s dizzy, from the alcohol or the lack of oxygen; maybe both. He flicks his eyes back up to meet Dennis’ alarmed ones, but Mac thinks nothing of it. 

 

He closes his eyes and leans in, closes the gap between him and Dennis but Dennis turns his head at the last second and Mac’s mouth ends up on his jaw. When he opens his eyes, Dennis is looking anywhere but at him and Mac would feel ashamed if he could feel anything else other than this soul-crushing sadness. 

 

“Oh,” he breathes out, “so I’m right.”

 

“You’re drunk,” Dennis replies, and he’s not wrong. 

 

Mac wants to curl up and fall asleep and perhaps never wake up. 

 

Mac wants to curl up and fall asleep and wake up without the feelings of anxiety and uncertainty eating at himself. 

 

When Dennis wraps his arms around Mac to drag him to Dee’s bed, Mac doesn’t fight him. 

 

When Dennis tells him to sleep it off, Mac only tugs on his sleeve and asks him to stay. He’s asleep before he even knows if Dennis does or not. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sweatermac on tumblr, come say hi!


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